I have been in hiding. I have retreated from the world to lick my wounds and mourn in self-pity. I cast myself down the darkest cave I could find. I spend weeks and months and yes, even years, berating myself as only the worst bully or skilled torturer could. And when I couldn’t handle the words I was saying to myself anymore, I drown my self-pity in a bottle and the pledged my soul to the gods of the sea of forgetfulness.
It has been ugly.
Confessing the degree of my darkness to you is scary. Admitting any weakness is like lying down a welcome mat on the fragile points in my fence and saying here- attack here. But three years after my move back from Haiti and it is time for me to stop playing the victim and start defining myself as the Victor. So it starts first with the admission of blackness.
Put back on your armour baby girl, there is a fight out there that needs you. You have ignored the cry long enough. Stretch. Do you feel that? Put blood back in your feet- rise, take your mat and walk.
Spear in one hand, hammer in the other, I will drag my ugly, broken body back out in the sunlight. It looks different from the beaten warrior who entered the tomb. But my God says all the dead shall arise. I’m sure Lazarus smelled too when he left his grave.
Death shall not overcome me. I have been called. I have been claimed. I have been Reborn in Love.
My journey 